Blood and Tea
by PandaInTheStars
Summary: AU. The Doctor, Jo, and the Brigadier solve preternatural cases across the English countryside, per usual. Except the Doctor isn't a Time Lord. He's a vampire. Inspired by Pertwee's role in "The House that Dripped Blood."
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The Brigadier's stuffy office seemed stuffier than usual. Or maybe it was the company. An awkward silence reigned, and the Brigadier was finding it difficult to break.

The Brigadier looked down at his paperwork and then up at the man sitting sheepishly in front of him. He arranged his papers for the umpteenth time and cleared his throat.

"Dr. Smith was it?" he asked.

"Dr. John Smith, yes," said the other man.

"Is that Doctor of medicine? Or something else?"

"I'm Doctor of quite a few things actually. I'm a professor at Cambridge. Well, I used to be, before…" he trailed off, looking around the room, at the walls, anywhere but the Brigadier's face.

"Cambridge, yes. You may have rubbed shoulders with Liz Shaw. She used to work here, you know."

"Dr. Shaw? Yes, I might have met her once or twice."

The Brigadier cleared his throat again. "Yes, well. You understand why you're here, Doctor?"

The Doctor nodded, looking down.

"Those farmers are going to miss their animals."

The Doctor swallowed.

"UNIT deals in the strange, the unexplained. So you can see why we would be interested in your case. For public safety, " he added.

Another nod.

The ticking clock seemed unnaturally loud.

The Doctor swallowed again. And then, "Are you going to kill me?"

The Brigadier smiled thinly. "I think you've got the wrong idea about our little organization, Doctor. No, I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to offer you a job."

The Doctor looked up. "I'm sorry?"

"As far as we can see, you've done no wrong other than a bit of willful destruction of property. You can help UNIT with your unique set of skills. You're a brilliant scientist, skilled with technology, and you have certain…abilities…due to your condition that could greatly aid our cause."

"And that is?"

"To investigate. To make sure the monsters under the bed aren't threatening national security."

"They exist?"

"You're living proof, Doctor."

"More like unliving."

"Quite. And in return we can offer you a steady supply of blood. You won't have to feed on unsuspecting cows anymore. We can also give you a decent salary."

"I…see." The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck and stared at his shoes. His eyes narrowed. "Now, look here. I'm not going to be some pawn in your little game of battleships. I don't agree with all this military hoopla and I'm certainly not going to be your soldier."

"Nevertheless, this could be your only chance to lead a normal life."

"When you put it like that you make it sound as if I have no choice."

"On the contrary, Doctor. You have all the choice in the world."

The Doctor snorted and folded his arms. He stared at the clock and pursed his lips for a while. Finally, he turned back to the Brigadier.

"All right. I accept. But on one condition."

"And what's that?"

"My car. I want it brought to UNIT."

* * *

It's short, but it will get longer. What do you think so far?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"So. What do you think?" the Brigadier asked.

The Doctor surveyed the small laboratory. There were several tabletops, a counter, and cabinets. Every surface was covered with the various gizmos that the Doctor had accumulated over a lifetime. A small refrigerator stood against the right wall. The back right corner seemed conspicuously empty. The Brigadier stood between the double doors as the Doctor ran his hand over the myriad gadgets.

The Brigadier was struck by the Doctor's unusual way of dress. Ruffles was the first word that came to mind. Well, he thought. These scientist types could dress however they wanted as long as they produced the goods.

"I think it'll do," the Doctor replied magnanimously.

The Brigadier cleared his throat. "Well, the garage is just down the hall on the left. I must say, that is quite the…interesting car you have."

"Bessie? Yes, well. I must say there's a special place in my heart for her." The Doctor's eyes wandered to the refrigerator. "Is that…?"

"Yes."

"May I ask…where you get it?"

"UNIT has a little weight in the government. We were able to dip into the blood store."

"I see." The Doctor seemed distinctly uncomfortable.

"You didn't specify how much you needed, so there might be a bit of a surplus."

The Doctor coughed. "Well, I seem to need it badly every three days or so."

"Badly?"

"Mmm." He placed one hand on his hip. The other rubbed thoughtfully beneath his nose.

The Brigadier clasped his hands behind his back. "Now, Doctor, we do need to discuss as to the matter of your assistant."

"My assistant? What assistant?"

"It is my opinion as well some of my higher-ups that you should have an assistant. He or she could help with your scientific projects and UNIT duties, as well as make sure you're getting the right amount of…nutrition."

"I see. You think I need a keeper. Now, look here Lethbridge-Stewart. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and I certainly—"

"Doctor, you haven't got much choice in the matter!" The Brigadier swallowed. "You can expect to meet them within the next week." He pursed his lips. "I'll leave you to it then." He turned on his heel and let the double doors swing closed behind him.

The Doctor let out a long, exhausted breath. His eyes wandered over the room and lingered on the back corner. Something needed to go there. He walked slowly over to the refrigerator and opened it. Within there were several stacked packets full of human blood.

He swallowed. It was disgusting how appealing those packets looked right now. He pulled the top packet out and closed the door. He settled down on a lab stool, grumbling about unnecessary assistants.

He stared at the blood, thinking of all the horrible things he had done. "Blast it all," he muttered, ripping the seal off the packet. He raised it to his lips and drank. Why did the blessed stuff have to taste so good? He finished and dropped the packet in the garbage.

So, this was working for the government. It wasn't so bad, really. It gave him stability. And Lethbridge-Stewart wasn't a bad chap, despite his military mindset. The Doctor picked up the gadget that was closest to him. It was a mess of jumbled wires and metal spikes. He began to tinker.

"Might as well start somewhere," he sighed.

* * *

Sorry for all this exposition. The real story is coming, I swear!


	3. Chapter 3

Apologies for gratuitous use of Doctor Who dialogue. Doctor Who does not belong to me.

* * *

Chapter 3

The Doctor sat in his lab, staring intently at the instrument in front of him. He occasionally tweaked a certain part, pressed a button, making mental notes to himself. He hummed contentedly.

There was a knock at the door.

"Not today, thank you," the Doctor quipped, his whole attention on the experiment.

The door slowly opened, and a young lady entered. She had short blonde hair and despite her current position she possessed a certain self-confidence. She stepped forward cautiously, unsure of her presence. She gripped the papers she carried.

"Doctor, I—"

"I said not today, thank you."

The girl blinked, nonplussed and opened her mouth as if to speak. At that very moment, however, the instrument the Doctor was working on seemed to explode. Sparks flew and smoke filled the room.

"Oh, no!" he cried.

Swiftly, the girl grabbed the fire extinguisher hanging on the wall and hurried across to the Doctor. She then sprayed the instrument until any possible semblance of fire was gone. The smoke cleared, revealing the Doctor who wore a distinctly peeved expression.

"Oh, no."

"It's alright! I dealt with it," the girl said brightly. The Doctor's expression remained unchanged.

"Dealt with it? You've ruined it!" he admonished.

"But it was on fire!" she exclaimed, confused.

"Three days delicate work on it and now look at it, you ham-fisted bun vendor!"

"But this whole place might have gone up in flames!"

"My dear young lady, steady-state microwelding always creates more smoke than fire," the Doctor said, his voice rising.

"Steady-state microwelding?"

"Yes." He returned to tinkering with the instrument, choosing to ignore the bemused girl.

An awkward silence emerged as both parties kept quiet.

The Doctor had had enough. He gave his full attention to the girl. "Look, I said I don't want any tea today, thank you."

"I'm not the tea lady!"

"Then what the blazes are you doing in here?"

"I—"

"Don't you know this area is strictly out of bounds to everybody except the tea lady and the Brigadier's personal staff?"

"I'm you're new assistant!" she finally said, smiling mischeviously.

"Oh, no." The Doctor's face was now distinctly depressed.

"The Brigadier sent me along to introduce myself, Dr. Smith. Josephine Grant," she said, extending a hand.

The Doctor took her hand and shook it. "How do you do, Ms. Grant. But I…I really don't think you're suitable."

"I'm a fully qualified agent, you know. Cryptology, safe-breaking, explosives—"

"Fire fighting?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Yes, well I'm sorry my dear, but what I really need is a scientist."

"I took general science at A-levels!" she proclaimed, indignantly.

"Yes, I'm sure you did." He leaned back and rubbed his lip. "So you're to be my keeper, are you?"

"Keeper?"

"Yes. You're the one who's supposed to stop me gallivanting across the countryside, biting people's necks."

"The Brigadier didn't put it exactly in those terms."

"No, I'm sure he didn't. You do know what you're going to be doing here?"

"I'm going to help you with your experiments and investigations!"

"Well you've been a great help already, haven't you."

She pursed her lips. "I'm also supposed to make sure you get the right amount of blood."

It was the Doctor's turn to look nonplussed. "Well, I'm sure you mean well, but as I told the Brigadier, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Oh, really. When was the last time you had any?"

The Doctor's mouth opened and closed a few times.

"That's what I thought. Now you look here, Doctor. You never gave me the chance to tell you why I'm here in the first place."

"And why's that?"

"The Brigadier wanted me to tell you about this house in Essex. There have been sightings of some sort of…ghost."

"A ghost?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "You know there are dozens of ghost sightings across the country nearly every day. Why should this one be any different?"

"Because there have been at least a dozen witnesses. One of which was a duke."

"I see. So this is to be my first 'case' is it?"

"I suppose so."

"A vampire investigating a ghost, hmm? How appropriate."

* * *

We meet Jo! And the plot finally begins!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A bright yellow roadster zipped across the country roads at breakneck speeds. Its occupants sat serenely within, letting the wind whip at their respective hair. Villages, farms, and green, rolling pastures swept past. The Brigadier and his men had diplomatically opted out of riding in Bessie, preferring their military jeeps. This left the Doctor and Jo alone to enjoy the country air.

"I still can't understand why the Brigadier is going to so much trouble over a silly ghost story," the Doctor said as he turned a sharp corner.

Jo twisted her neck to look at the Doctor. "I'm not sure it's the ghost he's worried about. I heard him mention something about the Duke of Essex donating quite a lot of money to UNIT."

"Ah. And the Brigadier wants to make sure the man knows his money is well spent?" The Doctor changed gears and the car strained and accelerated even further. "Still, I don't think bringing all these soldiers along is really necessary."

"Well, the Duke did say he was savagely attacked by…whatever it is."

The Doctor hummed pensively. His eyes flicked to the small cardboard box that rested in the back seat. Jo caught his wandering gaze.

"I know you don't like it, but if we're going to stay there for while then you're going to need it."

"Yes. Yes, I know."

They sat in silence for a little while. Jo, however, wasn't one to tolerate silences, let alone awkward ones.

"Doctor…if I may ask…"

"Yes, Jo?" Another shift of gears. The engine roared.

Jo twisted her blouse between her fingers. "Well…How did you become a vampire?"

The Doctor tore his eyes away from the road for a second. "That's a very personal question."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. You probably don't want to talk about that sort of thing…"

The Doctor returned his eyes to the road, but a small smile graced his features. "No, it's alright, my dear. There's not really much to tell, anyway."

"So, what did happen?"

The engine finally settled into a low hum. The Doctor gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. "I was on vacation in eastern Europe. It's…it's all my own fault really. I was taking an evening stroll through one of the villages when someone—something attacked me from behind. Next thing I knew I was on the ground with its teeth in my neck."

"That's horrible!" Jo cried, her face contorted in imagined pain.

"Yes. I thought I was going to die. Suddenly I heard this very loud noise (I think it was an automobile accident) and it was gone. I'm not sure how long I lay there."

Jo licked her lips but was unable to come up with the proper words of sympathy. She gave up. "And…and then what happened?"

"And then? I recovered. I came back to England. It was three or four months before I noticed any…changes."

Jo didn't prod any further as to what those changes were. She got the feeling that she didn't want to know.

"Eventually I was forced to resign from Cambridge. UNIT got word of…of what was happening and here I am."

Jo bit her lip. She stayed quiet and returned to staring out the window.

After a few miles she whispered very softly to herself, "I'm sorry, Doctor."

The sun dipped in the sky. The orange light faded to purple and then to black. Jo's head lolled as she began to doze off.

The Doctor continued to drive in silence.

"I'm sorry too," he whispered to the night.

* * *

Eryaforsthye – Thank you so much for your kind reviews! I'm not planning for the Master to appear in this story, but if this ever does become a series you can be sure that he'll pop up somewhere. ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The night was a crispy black when the Doctor finally pulled up in front of the Standard Arms Inn. A chilly wind whistled through the village and Jo shivered in her sleep. The Doctor shut the engine off and hopped out of the car. His footsteps crunched on the frosty gravel.

A single lantern illuminated the front of the inn. Underneath it stood the Brigadier, his silhouette almost black in the dim light.

"Doctor, is that you?" he called, squinting at the emerging figure in the darkness.

"Yes, it's me. Don't shout. Jo's asleep."

The Brigadier stood back and watched the Doctor slowly coax Jo out of the car.

"Come on, my dear—watch the step—careful, now—yes, it's very cold, isn't it?" He wrapped one arm around the shivering girl and gently led her into the inn. The Brigadier followed behind.

The interior of the inn sharply contrasted the outside. It was lit warmly. A young receptionist sat behind a mahogany desk, snoring softly. Several flower-patterned chairs decorated a small sitting room to the left. To the right, a large wooden door connected the inn to the local pub next door.

"I've already checked us all in," the Brigadier said softly.

"I should get Jo to bed, then," the Doctor replied.

The Brigadier nodded fondly, but his eyes were hard. "Come straight back, though. We need to discuss some things."

The Doctor led Jo down the hallway to the room the Brigadier had indicated and bid her goodnight. He rested his arm against the closed door and took a deep breath. Finally he walked down the hall and returned to the lobby.

The Brigadier was sitting in one of the flowery chairs. The Doctor would have smirked at the juxtaposition had he not seen the object in the Brigadier's hands.

The cardboard box.

The Brigadier rose from his seat and handed it over to the Doctor.

"I believe this is yours."

The Doctor reluctantly took it. He lifted the open flaps and looked inside. Among several bags of ice there lay six packets of blood. He sighed.

"Yes. Yes it is." He closed the flaps.

"Take whatever you feel you need. Ms. Grant will ensure you are getting the proper amount."

"Yes. She told me."

The receptionist suddenly gave a very loud snore.

"Ahem. Yes, well, I thought I would just take this opportunity, Doctor, to debrief you and give you the rundown of the schedule tomorrow."

"Yes, sir!" The Doctor gave a mock salute.

The Brigadier's moustache twitched, but he otherwise didn't react. "Now, you'll be meeting the Duke tomorrow at Brightley Manor—"

"The haunted house?"

"I suppose you could say that. The place has been empty for years with only the old butler running the place. The Duke bought it a few months back and only moved in a few weeks ago. Ever since then he's been plagued by this…apparition."

"Has he described it?"

"Yes. He said it was definitely shaped like a man but it was too blurry to make out any features. You'll have to ask him for more details. The poor chap's convinced it's the ghost of some obscure royal who was murdered there."

"Oh? And who would that be?"

"I'm not sure. Lord…Waxley…Braxley? The man was mumbling. Anyway, I'm certain the whole thing's in his head. We probably won't even require your services, Doctor."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Brigadier." The Doctor turned to leave, a sad gleam in his eye. "Things never are what they seem, are they?" He started to walk away. "Good night, Brigadier," he said. And then he was gone.

The Brigadier stood stiffly in the sitting room. He sniffed. Then he cracked a small smile. The game was afoot.

* * *

In his room, the Doctor sat in perfect darkness. It didn't matter to him. He could see the objects in his room perfectly well. He had tried to get to sleep. He really had. He pinched his nose with his forefinger and thumb. Ever since…he had never been able to sleep well during the night. Sleeping during the day was much more natural… But he was not nocturnal. No! He would lead a normal life, damn it! Especially after what he had done…

Sighing, he ran his hands over his face. Things would look better in the morning. They always did. He would meet this duke, solve this mystery. Things would look better. They had to.

* * *

BadWolf1 – Thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

After fierce discussion, the Doctor finally agreed to ride with the Brigadier in one of his jeeps to Brightley Manor. The Brigadier argued that as far as impressing the Duke with their mode of transportation, Bessie wouldn't be "appropriate."

The Doctor sat huffily in the passenger seat staring out the window. The Brigadier tried and failed to not pull a satisfied smirk. Jo diplomatically ignored both proud men and introduced herself to the young sergeant sitting next to her.

"—Josephine Grant."

The young man took her hand and smiled.

"Sgt. John Benton." He released her hand but kept his eyes focused on hers. "So you're the Doc's new assistant, then?"

"Yes. Have you worked for UNIT for long?"

"Oh, yes. Quite a long time. I was doing surveillance work for them back then…"

The two chatted pleasantly as the Brigadier drove them through the manor grounds. Fields gave way to pastures, which gave way to woods and then neatly trimmed gardens. Finally they pulled up the gravel drive and parked in front of the manor itself.

It was quite foreboding, even in the daylight. Stone steps led up to large double doors, each with a huge brass knocker. Dozens of windows peered out at the country like squinting eyes. Carved figures of devils and angels decorated the masonry. Towers rose above the shingled roof and cast long shadows on the manicured lawn. The occupants of the car disembarked and stared at the house with calculating wonder.

One of the large doors creaked open and out stepped a butler dressed in full suit and tie. He tripped down the steps and approached the Brigadier, his hands behind his back. He had a sly expression and his greasy hair was combed over his bald spot.

"I presume you're here to see the master?"

"We are."

"He's waiting for you in the lounge. I will lead you through." He stretched one lurid hand toward the manor and began to walk away. The Brigadier took a sharp breath and followed suit.

The small party walked up the stairs and entered the manor. The interior was a forest of dark wood and intricate tapestries. A large staircase in front of the double doors led to a banister which branched off to form the bedroom hallways. On the first floor, the front hall was connected to two rooms on the right and left. The butler led them to the lounge on the right.

There sat the Duke of Essex himself in a light blue loveseat. His fingers were perched together and he was concentrating intently on the tips of his fingers. He was a handsome man with thinning brown hair. His face was thin but warm. He wore an expensive business suit that was unfortunately crumpled. His eyes were a dark blue. They rose slowly as his guests entered the room.

The butler thrust an arm out as the group entered. "Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart and his associates, sir."

The Duke stood. "There's no need for such formalities, Wesley." He extended a hand to the Brigadier. "Call me Geoffrey, please. And who are these?"

The Brigadier took his hand and shook. "Please to meet you sir. This is Sgt. Benton, UNIT's scientific advisor, Dr. Smith, and his assistant Ms. Jo Grant."

Geoffrey smiled and shook each of their hands in turn. "Pleased to meet you, Sergeant, Doctor, Ms. Grant."

The Doctor rubbed his lip and raised his eyebrows. "Yes, well this all very nice but I do think it would be good to get down to business."

"Of course, Doctor. Come, everyone. Sit down." He motioned to the various chairs situated throughout the room.

Once everyone was settled, the Doctor began the attack. "So tell us, sir, from the beginning, exactly what has been going on."

The Duke nodded and took a deep breath. "Right, of course. It all began a few weeks ago, just after I moved in. It was late at night – probably around midnight, I suppose. I was walking down the landing when this…thing suddenly appeared in front of me."

"Can you describe it – exactly?"

"Yes. It was bright white. Almost blue. And transparent. It was obviously a man but it was far too fuzzy to make out features or clothing. It seemed to crackle with…almost as if it were electric. As you can imagine, I was frightened out of my wits."

"Yes, yes. Did it have any sort of physical presence?"

"I should say it did! It flew at me and knocked me down. Its arms – if you can call them arms – were going for my throat. And then it just…disappeared."

"Disappeared?" asked the Brigadier.

"Yes. It just seemed to flash out of existence." The Duke emphasized his point by motioning with his open palms.

"Does it appear at any specific time?" asked the Doctor.

"Yes. It's always at night. I've seen it a few times since that first night, but – call me a coward – I run at the sight of it."

"Always at night," the Doctor murmured, rubbing his chin.

Sgt. Benton leaned forward. "Any idea what it is, Doc?"

"I have a few theories."

The Duke's eyes shifted. "I think it is relevant to mention that a previous owner of Brightley, Lord Braxley, was murdered here by one of his political enemies. And on that very landing, too."

"Surely it can't be a real ghost. Right, Doctor?" asked Jo.

"I don't know. I can't say anything for certain without closely examining it."

"And how do you plan to do that?" asked the Duke.

"Simple. I suggest we all spend the night in Brightley Manor." And he smiled.

* * *

The plot thickens!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The house creaked as it twisted in the night wind. The Doctor sat in his room, exhausted but unable to get to sleep. Not being allowed to sleep during either the night or day was starting to take a toll on him. He would have to have a word with Lethbridge-Stewart about this.

An owl hooted and he started upwards. After realizing what the noise was he collapsed back into the chair, chuckling to himself. Here he was, a monster fit for nightmares, and he was afraid of a silly owl.

If his associates back at Cambridge could see him like this…

A shriek pierced through the night air.

Instantly, the Doctor leapt up and opened his bedroom door. He stepped out onto the landing. Several more doors opened and the Brigadier and Benton appeared in their pajamas. Everyone twisted their head to find the source of the scream.

Then they saw it. It shimmered menacingly like a reflection in a rippling pond. It was bright white and electricity arced across it, sizzling like firecrackers. It stalked slowly but confidently down the hallway making all the air around it seem to shiver.

And it was heading towards Jo. It was backing her up against the banister that overlooked the first floor. She searched wildly for some way to escape but found none.

"Doctor!"

"Jo!"

BANG!

The gunshot echoed throughout the house. The Doctor turned to see the Brigadier in his pajamas, pistol still cocked and ready to fire.

"My God, man! Do you sleep with that thing?" the Doctor yelled.

"I—"

"You haven't stopped it! Look!"

Indeed, Jo was now pressed against the banister with only a wooden rail and 30 feet of air between her and the ground below. And it was still advancing.

"I'm coming, Jo!" the Doctor called and he started to sprint towards her.

She tried to scoot right or left, but it was far too close now. She pushed herself up onto the railing and peered down, judging the distance to the ground. It reached out to her with its slender, malevolent arm.

"Doctor, I – aaaaAHHHH!"

She fell.

The Doctor didn't think. He rushed past the creature, placed a hand on the banister, and leapt over.

For a second they seemed to hang there, suspended. His eyes were locked onto hers. His cape fluttered behind him, as if in slow motion. It felt as if they would float there forever.

Then the world came crashing down around them. The Doctor grabbed Jo and pulled her into his arms. And then they were soaring upward, the pull of gravity now meaningless. The Brigadier and Benton watched with eyes and mouths wide open as the Doctor and Jo hovered at eye level with the creature, standing on nothing but air.

"Doctor! What on earth?!" Jo screamed, clinging in terror to the lapels of his jacket.

The Doctor ignored her, ignored everything, except the creature in front of him.

"Who are you? Tell me! WHO ARE YOU?"

The creature responded by taking a step forward. It stood there for a moment in apparent confusion before blinking out of existence.

A weary silence replaced the previous chaos. The Doctor seemed to become suddenly aware of his position and gently flew himself and Jo over to the now empty landing.

Everyone stood stock still as the Doctor alighted on the ground. The Brigadier still held his gun slackly in his hand. He gulped.

"Doctor…how?"

The Doctor finally released Jo and spoke quickly. "I don't know. I—"

"What on earth is going on?!" The Duke finally appeared from around the hallway corner. He was in his dressing gown and the little hair he had stood up ridiculously. "I heard shouts and gunshots! For God's sake! I told you to investigate, not destroy my house!"

The Brigadier looked at his gun and then hastily hid it behind his back. "Yes, sir. We just…we just had an encounter with Brightley's resident ghost."

Instantly, the Duke's manner changed. "You did? Did you get a good look at it? What do you make of it?"

A shout came from downstairs. "Is everything alright? I heard such a commotion!" The butler appeared at the bottom of the stairs, blinking in the dim light.

"It's alright, Wesley. You can go back to bed. It was that dratted ghost," the Duke called down the stairs.

Jo shivered, still staring at the Doctor. "Yes…yes, well that…that dratted…g-ghost t-tried to kill me!"

"Kill you? Ms. Grant! Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes I am." She sniffed and folded her arms defensively. "What was it, anyway?"

"Doctor?"

"What?" The Doctor was staring at the place where he and Jo were floating. "I…I…Yes, I saw it."

"Well?"

"I…it…" He caught sight of Jo and swallowed. "I still can't say for sure. I…I must say, it didn't seem very ghost-like, did it? Not in the traditional sense, anyway."

"It seemed to me like a man who'd been electrocuted," said Benton.

"Exactly. Which makes me wonder if all this business is as supernatural as we thought…"

"Do you think so?" asked the Duke.

"Well, I can't say anymore until I've gathered more information."

"Well, in that case I think we should all be getting back to bed."

"I agree, sir," said the Brigadier.

"Alright, then. Good night Brigadier, Sergeant, Ms. Grant, Doctor." The Duke nodded and then left the hallway.

"Good night."

Hearts still pumping, the rest of the group returned to their respective bedrooms. The Doctor remained in the hallway, breathing heavily. When he was quite sure he was alone he allowed himself to drift a few inches above the ground. Eyes wide, he leaned heavily against the wall and ran a hand over his face.

"No. Not a good night at all."

* * *

"Still Got Legs" (the album) is very good! Listened to it while I was writing this.

iPinkNinja - Thank you so much! The lack of Classic Who on FF is a bit depressing, isn't it?

Eryaforsthye - Thank you! I do try to update on a regular basis.

Amron - Thank you! I certainly will.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The next morning, the Doctor and the Brigadier stood on the front step of the manor and said goodbye to the Duke.

"I'll be in town all of today, so I'm afraid you're going to have to carry on the investigation alone. Don't worry. I'm sure Wesley will be able to assist you in whatever you require." He smiled, tipped his hat, and then climbed into his Rolls-Royce. The car kicked up a cloud of dust as it drove down the drive.

The Brigadier gave a perfunctory wave and then turned to the Doctor. "Alright, Doctor. Now that he's gone, are you finally going to tell me what happened last night? _Exactly?_"

The Doctor looked down. "Er, yes. Yes. You must understand, it was as much a shock to me as for you."

"Really?"

"Yes. I…I had no idea I could do that either."

"Well, I must say, Doctor, the revelation isn't entirely unpleasant. Can you imagine the possibilities of a flying agent?"

"Yes I can and I've told you before, Lethbridge-Stewart, I am not your toy soldier to do with what you please."

The Brigadier coughed. "Yes, yes, of course." He sniffed. "You said you needed to gather more information – so I imagine you have a plan for today?"

"I was thinking Jo and I could take the jeep into town and question the locals. Find out a little more about Brightley's history."

"Right. Sgt. Benton and I will search the house and the grounds. I should telephone UNIT HQ, we'll need reinforcements…"

"You mean you want as many guns as possible."

"Whatever this thing is it's obviously malevolent and could be a threat to national security for all I know. You can never be too careful, Doctor."

The Doctor pulled on his driving gloves and walked toward the jeep. "Just make sure, Brigadier, that Brightley isn't a massive crater when Jo and I get back. Where is she, anyway?"

At that moment the front door opened and Jo stepped out. She bounced down the stairs and smiled at the two men. "Good morning, everyone!"

"Ms. Grant! Good morning! Are you feeling any better?"

She grinned. "Oh, it was just a little scare, that's all. A girl's got a right to be frightened after something tries to kill her, right? Anyway, aren't we going into the village today, Doctor?"

The Doctor smiled softly. "Yes. We are." He turned to the Brigadier. "We'll be off then, Brigadier. We'll see you later."

"Right. Call me on the radio if anything comes up."

"Of course. Come on, Jo. Goodbye, Brigadier."

"Goodbye."

The Doctor and Jo clambered into the car and drove away. The sun beat down on the road making little spirals of heat rise up. The sound of birds tweeting could be faintly heard behind the roar of the engine.

Jo, meanwhile, chattered incessantly about whatever came into her head. The weather, what she was wearing, what the Doctor was wearing, the various wildflowers that grew along the sides of the road. The Doctor smiled and commented occasionally, but there was a certain uneasiness about him.

"Jo, about last night—"

"—and I said 'Of course the rainforest is important!' and—what did you say, Doctor?"

"I—Jo, about last night. I just wanted to apologize…"

"Apologize? Apologize for what? You saved my life!"

"Well, yes, but I didn't exactly do it in a conventional way."

"Well that doesn't matter! It's the thought that counts, and all that."

"I suppose so. I just wanted to make sure that you weren't…that it wasn't…"

"That I wasn't scared of you?"

The Doctor stayed quiet and kept his eyes on the road.

"You do know, Doctor, that I didn't sign up for this job because I thought I would be making paper roses? I wanted adventure! I wanted to make a difference!"

"I know. I know, Jo."

There remained a pleasant silence as they rolled into the village street. The Doctor pulled up beside Bessie in front of the inn. He parked the jeep and hopped out onto the ground. Jo quickly followed.

"So what's the plan, Doctor?"

"We should split up. We'll cover more ground. I'll start in the inn and question the innkeeper. You can go across the road. Go into as many shops and houses as you can and get the local gossip on Brightley."

"Right. Shall I meet you back here?"

"Don't worry about that. I'll find you."

* * *

Not the most exciting chapter, I know. But I wanted to make sure I included the reactions of Jo and the Brigadier. Anyway...

Amron - Thank you! I do my best to convey that uneasiness.

Eryaforsthye - Thank you!

!PinkNinja - Thank you! I actually agree with you, but I'm a sucker for angst. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The Doctor entered the inn and strolled forward. The cozy room was as brightly lit as ever. He walked over to the desk where sat the receptionist. The young man looked up as the Doctor approached.

"Hello. What may I do for you?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off.

"Oh, you're one of the UNIT people, aren't you? Word is someone was killed at Brightley last night. Is that true?"

"No, it—"

"Seems like someone's always being killed 'round there," he said, shaking his head and tutting.

"Oh? You mean Lord Braxley?"

"No, no. Cor, that was eons ago. No, I'm talking about Mr. Wesley."

"Mr. Wesley? The butler?"

"No, no. His brother. Matthew Wesley." He shook his head and grimaced. "Sad, sad story that is."

"Oh really?" the Doctor prodded, surprised at how easy this information gathering was.

The receptionist leaned forward and lowered his voice confidentially.

"He was the old gardener, see," he prattled. "Hard working man, he was. They say he worked too hard an' that's how he died. Heart gave out, they says. His poor brother grieved something terrible. Blamed the old master, he did."

"Blamed him? Why?"

"Was never too sure on that bit. I only moved here a few months ago." The receptionist smiled ruefully. "Can't say I'm fully up to date on local gossip."

"Well you've helped immensely with our investigation, thank you. But, if you would be so kind – do you know of someone who could elaborate a bit more on this topic?"

He grinned. "Oh, sure. If it's gossip you want you should go ask Ms. Bertha. She knows everyone and everything in this 'ere village."

"And where can I find her?"

"Right next door!" the receptionist grinned, cocking his head toward the large wooden door that led to the pub. "She's the bar lady, she is. Has been for as long as anyone can remember."

The Doctor looked toward the door and mirrored the receptionist's smile. "Thank you very much. I think I'll go talk to her now."

"Alright, you do that. Oh, and while you're at it, tell 'er I'll pay my tab tomorrow."

"I will." The Doctor nodded courteously and then walked over to the door.

The door itself was a bright orange wood and it smelled strongly of years of bar goers entering and exiting with their drinks. As the Doctor opened it the smell hit him twofold. There was almost a haze in the air from the fermenting liquid and a bit of light cigarette smoke.

The pub itself was laid out with elegant simplicity. Booths and tables were interspersed at the front where light from the open windows streamed through. The back of the pub was dimmer and cozier. The bar table stretched almost the length of the pub and a few patrons sat on the stools, stirring their drinks. Behind the table stood a large woman who was presumably Ms. Bertha, obligatorily cleaning glasses. Behind the various liquors a mirror reflected the entire establishment, making it look twice as large.

The Doctor weaved his way through the tables, making his way to the back. He sat on one of the bar stools and waited for Ms. Bertha to finish cleaning her glasses before she approached him.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked, leaning on the counter.

"Actually, no," the Doctor qualified. "I'm with the UNIT investigation…"

The woman laughed heartily. "And they told you to come to me? That's rich. Although I suppose they don't call me 'Blabbin' Bertha' for nothing." She continued to chuckle.

"Yes, well, I was hoping you could help me."

"What would you like to know?" She smiled.

"I was told that a man by the name of Matthew Wesley died at Brightley some years back. Could you tell me about that?"

"Oh, sure. That was back when old Mr. Henry Chatham owned Brightley."

"Chatham? That name sounds familiar…"

"People don't like to talk about Mr. Chatham much. It is a very a weird story." Her eyes flicked out to the pub and then returned to the Doctor.

"Weird?"

"Yes. He was some sort of eccentric scientist. One day he just up and disappeared." She bit her lip. "Police never found the body, but they declared him dead some years ago."

"How strange!"

"Yes, very strange. And it happened only a few months after Matthew's death. Poor old Tom."

"Tom? I assume you mean Tom Wesley?"

"Yes. Everyone agreed the poor boy was a little off his rocker after his brother's death. I'm surprised Mr. Chatham didn't fire him after all the ruckus he made in his grief. Of course, he may not have gotten the chance, seeing as how he disappeared." She took a deep breath. "And that's really all I know on the subject. I'm sorry I couldn't help you any further."

"Oh, no, that's quite alright. Believe me I have… a great many things to think about now." The Doctor turned to leave, then quickly looked back. "Oh! I almost forgot. The receptionist of the inn next door told me to tell you that he would pay his tab tomorrow."

"Oh, that's Mac for you. I guarantee he'll pay me next week at the earliest." She shook her head smiling.

The Doctor smiled back and then finally took his leave. On the way out of the front door of the pub, he caught the eye of one the patrons. The man was staring at him strangely, eyes wide, his glass raised to his lips. The Doctor looked back at him, confusedly, before shaking his head and quickly hurrying out the door.

Even after the Doctor had left the man remained motionless, eyes flicking nervously from side to side. Ms. Bertha looked up and scowled. "For goodness sakes, Edward! If you can't keep your liquor don't come into my pub," she said, scornfully.

"I didn't—I'm not—Did you not see?" he sputtered.

"See? See what?"

"That—that man!" he half-shouted, gesticulating. "He had no reflection!"

* * *

So... Haven't updated for a while. Yeah. The truth is school has become _really really crazy_. Like, insane.

Oh, and that last line? Couldn't resist. Sorry. :)

Amron - That's not important. At all. *shifts eyes*

iPinkNinja - I really love Jo as well! My favorites have got to be her, Sarah Jane, and Tegan.

Bad Wolf10 - Thank you very much!

Primsong - Oh, wow. Thank you so much! I am a huge fan of your stories - especially your 'Custom Vehicle' series. Thanks so much for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Jo was not having nearly as much luck as the Doctor. It was already late afternoon and all she had gathered from her various house visits was there had been anywhere between two to fifteen deaths at Brightley Manor, with almost no consistency.

Needless to say, she was a little frustrated. Being Josephine Grant, however, she was not ready to give up. As she walked around yet another street corner, she came across a small shop shrouded in shade from the surrounding trees.

Cautiously, Jo turned the brass door handle and entered the shop. Inside, there were a few tables and bookshelves strewn haphazardly around the small room. The tables were covered with black candles, images of pentagrams, and Ouija boards.

"Hello?" Jo called, nervously. "Is anyone here?"

There was no response.

Jo took another step into the shop. As she looked around her eyes were caught by a short, black and red cloak hanging on one of the bookshelves. Curiously, she reached out and touched the cloak, but instantly withdrew her hand when she felt an almost tangible chill.

"May I help you?"

Jo twisted around instantly, her eyes wide. Behind her was a tall thin man with a gray face and white hair. He leered forward, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh! I—yes, er—yes—I—" she sputtered.

"I don't believe I've seen you before," the man hummed pensively, his eyes raking her face.

Jo swallowed. "If I may, um, ask you a few que—"

"Give me your hand," he commanded.

Before Jo could react, the man had grabbed her hand a run his thin, gray fingers over the shallow lines in her palm.

"What are—what are you doing?"

He didn't answer. He continued to look at her hand intently. Jo was about to yank her hand away and leave as fast as physically possible when he suddenly spoke.

"That man you travel with…" he began, his voice low.

"Man? Do you mean the Doctor?" she asked, trying to position herself closer and closer to the door.

"That man… you shouldn't trust him," he said, his eyes slowly raising until they were level with hers. "You have no idea what he has done."

"What – what he has done?" she breathed, now openly trying to back away.

"Be careful, Ms. Grant. You don't want to end up like her…" His gray eyes remained fixed on hers. He clutched her hand tightly, making her wince.

"I don't think I told you my name…"

At that moment the door opened and a stream of evening light entered the dingy shop. The strange man briefly grinned at Jo before sinking back into the shadows.

The Doctor entered through the open door.

"Jo? Are you here? – there you are, I – Jo, are you alright?"

Jo stood shivering, staring at the place where the man had just been standing.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," she said in a trembling voice. "What have you – what have you found out?"

"I believe I may have solved the mystery of Brightley's ghost."

"Really?" Jo asked, looking up.

"Yes. Come, we need to get to Brightley immediately. We'll take Bessie – she's much faster than any of the Brigadier's jeeps."

Jo allowed the Doctor to drape an arm around her shoulders and steer her out of the shop. As they walked briskly away, Jo looked back at the shop, now almost hidden in the shadows.

She shivered.

"Are you cold?" the Doctor asked.

"Something like that."

She thought about what the man had said and let her eyes wander up to the Doctor's face.

_You have no idea what he has done_.

* * *

A nod to where the idea for this fic came from and a little bit of foreshadowing!

Amron - School has settled down a little bit, so I'll have some more time to write and update. I promise this story isn't getting canned! Thank you so much for your continued support.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The sky was a dark purple when the Doctor and Jo finally made their way back to the inn. The shadows had grown long and there was a sharp chill in the air. The Doctor explained to Jo what he had learned from the inn's receptionist and Ms. Bertha as they clambered into Bessie.

"I knew the name Henry Chatham sounded familiar," he said as he turned the key in the ignition. "I made a call to Cambridge to confirm. Dr. Chatham was an old professor there. He was also head of polydimensional research."

"Polydimensional?" Jo asked, confused.

"Alternate universes—other worlds, if you will," he explained, gesticulating, as he backed the yellow roadster out onto the main road.

"Those sorts of things exist?"

"Oh, yes, Jo, believe me. I actually saw a few of his demonstrations many years ago. A brilliant man."

Jo turned in her seat. "But Doctor, what does any of this have to do with Brightley's ghost?"

"I'm getting there, Jo." He turned the wheel sharply and the engine roared. "For some reason, Chatham quit his post at Cambridge and became a recluse. That must have been when he took up residence at Brightley."

"I still don't understand. You said Dr. Chatham was declared dead a long time ago."

"Yes, but not before he was able to continue his research. I believe Dr. Chatham set up shop in Brightley, so to speak."

"Do you mean to say," Jo began slowly. "That this ghost is some sort of… byproduct of one of his experiments?"

"Precisely."

Jo sat in stunned silence. And then—"But that doesn't make sense! These experiments… wouldn't they require some sort of equipment? Machinery?"

"Of course."

"Well surely the Duke would have discovered it by now!"

The Doctor changed gears and slammed his foot on the gas. "Not necessarily. Remember, the Duke has only lived at Brightley for a short while and every house has its shut-up rooms. It is entirely possible that he missed it completely."

"I suppose." Jo looked out at the dark countryside. The cold air whipped at her hair as she turned back around. "So what do you think this 'ghost' is, exactly?"

"Well, given the quantum fluctuations and electrical discharge it was giving off, I would say it's some sort of otherworldy being taking advantage of Chatham's machines in order to push itself into our world."

"Oh my! What do we do, Doctor? How do we stop it?"

The Doctor stared out at the thin stretch of road dimly illuminated by Bessie's headlights. "It should be a simple matter of reversing the polarity of the dimension transfer and shutting down the equipment." His face became grim. "A pity it's malevolent. Imagine the things we could learn from such a creature!"

"I can't say I share your sympathy, Doctor," Jo said, giving a small smile. "It did try to kill me, after all."

"The question is where the machinery is. It would have to be a fairly large space—most likely somewhere where it would be protected from the radiation from the sun…"

"The basement!" Jo cried, excitedly.

"Of course!"

The Doctor pulled the car up outside of the manor. He and Jo practically jumped out of their seats in their haste to get to the front door. Their footsteps crunched on the frosty gravel as they jogged across the drive and up the front steps.

"Quickly, Jo!" the Doctor huffed. "We must find the Brigadier!"

They burst through the front doors, gasping for breath. The front hall was lit warmly by wall sconces and a few candles, but there was no sign of anyone being home.

"Brigadier? Sgt. Benton?" the Doctor called out, his voice echoing in the empty house.

The butler appeared from a nearby hallway. He looked at them languidly, his hands clasped behind his back.

"I'm afraid Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart and Sgt. Benton are still out searching the grounds. May I be of service?"

"Yes, yes!" Jo piped up, almost jumping up and down in her excitement. "Can you tell us how to get to the basement?"

"The basement?" the butler said, taken aback. "Who would you want to—"

"Quickly, man! This is of the utmost importance!" the Doctor practically shouted.

Slightly bemused, the butler thrust his thumb over his shoulder. "Just down that hallway. Third door on the right."

With a brisk 'Thank you' the Doctor and Jo hurried down the hallway. They flung open the door the butler had indicated and rushed down a long flight of unfinished stairs. At the bottom of the stairs was a large door covered in dust and cobwebs. The door handle, however, was strangely clean.

The Doctor slowly turned the handle and opened the door. The room that appeared was pitch black. A cold draft blew out towards them.

"Hold on, Doctor," Jo said. "There's a light switch outside the door."

Jo flipped the switch and two fluorescent lights flickered on inside the room. The room was spacious, but the walls were covered with computers of every size and description. Buttons, switches, and notes covered the countertops in front of the computers. A chalkboard on the wall showed complex equations and myriad variables.

Jo entered the room and ran her hand along one of the countertops. A thick plume of dust ballooned into the air, making her cough.

The Doctor looked around critically, frowning.

"This doesn't make sense," he said.

Jo looked up. "What doesn't make sense?"

The Doctor looked up. "Don't you see? None of these computers—nothing—is running. I expected them to be automatic…"

Jo suddenly noticed the deafening silence that filled the room. She blinked. "But—but what does it mean?"

The Doctor stared at his shoes, grimacing. "It means that this whole situation is worse than I thought. It means that someone had to come down here and operate this machinery. It means someone deliberately tried to kill you, Jo."

"Very good, Doctor."

The Doctor and Jo whipped their heads around to see the butler standing at the foot of the stairs. There was a wicked grin on his face. In his right hand he held a pistol.

It was aimed directly at Jo's heart.

* * *

I fear some of the terminology in here may be Really Stretching UNIT Dating. Oh, well. It's not like it hasn't been done before. ;) Anyway, we're getting into the really exciting chapters here guys!

Amron - Answers are coming! I promise! Thank you for reviewing!

Son of Whitebeard - I thought the same thing! Imagine that. :)

iPinkNinja - Thank you very much! I will try to update soon.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"You," the Doctor breathed.

The butler's mouth crinkled in a smile.

Jo's eyes were fixed on the barrel of the gun. She stood stock still. "But… but why?" she stammered.

The butler made a move with his gun, making both Jo and the Doctor flinch. "Why do men do anything, Ms. Grant? Revenge."

The Doctor's eyes widened in realization. "Your brother, Matthew…"

The butler's eyes darkened and his lip raised in a sneer. "Dead. My brother is dead because of that rat—that good-for-nothing—that fu—"

"Henry Chatham."

The butler's eyes went wild. "DON'T you DARE speak his name to me!" he shouted. "That damn MURDERER doesn't deserve to be mentioned!"

The Doctor walked forward slowly, his hands raised in front of him. "What happened, Tom—may I call you Tom?" he said in a calm voice. "What happened… to Henry Chatham?"

The man's hand holding the gun slackened and he almost laughed. "You haven't figured it out yet?" He chuckled.

"Haven't… haven't figured what out?" Jo trembled.

"The perfect trap… the perfect design…" the butler said, smiling. "The perfect vengeance for my brother's death."

"Oh, no…" the Doctor breathed, his eyes wide.

The butler grinned. "I trapped him. I trapped him in his own satanic experiment. Stuck in perpetual limbo between two worlds."

"What… what does he mean, Doctor?" Jo asked in bewilderment.

The Doctor grimaced. "He means our ghost, Jo. He means Henry Chatham is the ghost of Brightley Manor. Only he's not dead. He is very much alive."

The butler's eyes twinkled. "Don't you agree, Doctor? Don't you agree it is the perfect revenge?"

The Doctor could only stare blankly ahead, realizing the implications of what the butler had done. "Trapped in eternal agony and confusion. No wonder he was homicidal, Jo. All that time trapped in the void… He went insane."

Jo stared at the Doctor, breathing heavily. Then she turned to the butler. "You… you monster!" she cried.

"You'll never get away with it," the Doctor ground out. "The Duke will discover what you're up to and put a stop to it."

"Oh really?" the butler asked, now swinging his gun around haphazardly. "He'll find a store of computers left behind by the previous owner. What do you think he'll do with them? He'll throw them away. And that dog Chatham will be trapped forever."

"We'll stop you," said Jo, her firm voice belied by her trembling figure.

The butler's manner suddenly became serious. "I don't think so," he said, his voice cool. "You see, I have the gun… and I also have the key to this room." He backed up until he was at the foot of the stairs. He waved his gun back and forth, ensuring the Doctor and Jo stayed where they were. "I think I'll take my leave, Doctor, Ms. Grant. I hope your stay will be comfortable."

He slammed the door and turned the key in the lock.

And then the lights went out.

"Doctor!" Jo screamed.

"Jo!"

They clung to each other in the dark. Gradually, the Doctor was able to calm Jo down and stop her from trembling.

"It's all right, Jo. Don't worry. He's gone. We'll get out of here, don't worry."

Jo sniffed and weakened her hold on the lapels of his jacket.

"Now, Jo. You have a degree in escapology, don't you?" he asked, gently. "Do you think you could get us out of here?"

Jo nodded, now determined. The Doctor guided her over to the door and placed her hand over the lock. Now knowing where she was, she pulled out the tools of her trade: a hairpin, a piece of wire, and a ring of keys.

Jo labored on the lock for several minutes, sometimes twisting the wire, sometimes trying out a new key. For some time the only sound in the room was that of Jo rattling around with her various instruments.

Eventually, Jo stood up, defeated. "It's no good, Doctor," she said, wearily. "He must have jammed it from the outside." She sighed. "I might be able to do it if I had a bit of light."

"Well that seems to be the one thing we seem to be without," the Doctor said wryly. "Don't worry, my dear. We'll find a way out of this somehow."

They stood in conciliatory silence for several minutes, considering their options. The Doctor approached the door and felt at its hinges for any weak spots.

"Perhaps we could try breaking the door do—" he broke off, gasping.

_Oh no_.

It was a familiar feeling, deep in his gut. A tug. A pull. An urge. _Ohgodohgodpleaseno_. _Not now_. His senses exploded tenfold. He held his breath, but not before her scent filled his lungs.

He could hear the blood rushing through her veins.

"Doctor, are you alright?" she asked, concernedly. She reached forward and touched his arm.

Her touch set his skin on fire.

He jerked back, almost knocking her over. "Stay back!" he yelled. He looked around, flailing wildly.

"Find something wooden! Anything wooden!"

"Doctor, I can't see a thing—"

But he wasn't listening. He spied a wooden stool and seized it. He smashed it on the ground with all the force he could muster. One of the legs broke off and skittered across the floor. He grabbed it and raced back to Jo.

"Doctor, what are you doing? What was that noise?" Jo asked, alarmed.

The Doctor thrust the leg into her hands. "Please, Jo. Please listen. If I come near you—_for whatever reason_—don't hesitate. Do you understand me? Don't hesitate. Please. I can't let it happen again. It _won't _happen again."

Jo looked up to where she heard his voice. "Doctor… Doctor, you can't be serious."

"Please, Jo," he begged, already backing away. He ran to the back corner of the room and stood there, trembling.

_It's no good._

Could it be possible that her scent was stronger back here? No, no it couldn't possibly be. He covered his face with his hands. He could feel them. They were there, poking into his bottom lip. He had been stupid, so stupid.

Why? Why hadn't he… _Oh, God._

He took a shuddering breath and tried to block out the world.

_Please_, he thought to himself. _Please don't let me kill her._


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

He was fighting a losing battle.

He could feel his consciousness slip away as the craving grew stronger. He slipped down the side of the wall, his eyes closed.

What was he doing again? Oh, yes. Protecting Jo.

Jo.

Her scent pulsated across the room. He could see her, hear her every movement. She had no place to run. She was trapped in the dark with the world's most dangerous predator—a predator currently crouching in the corner, only meters away.

He caught himself crawling forward toward the delicious smell and instantly slammed himself back, smacking his head against the wall.

"Doctor?" her voice wafted across to him, slightly distorted. "Are you alright?"

"Jo… stay there…" he said in a strangled voice. His own voice sounded foreign to him. It was harder to manipulate his tongue around his now elongated teeth.

The world was becoming very dark. The slightest disturbance in the air rippled across his vision. And shining through the dark clouds was an intense light. The light beat with a fast, beautiful rhythm. He needed to be close to that light. He needed to _taste_ it…

He stood up slowly and started walking towards it.

* * *

Jo stood by the door, the wooden leg of the stool gripped tightly in both hands. She listened closely, not daring to speak or even breathe.

This was all her fault. She hadn't been paying attention—too wrapped up in the investigation. The corners of her eyes pinched together. Anything that happened to her now would be her own fault.

She heard a sudden shuffling noise and then a great bang, as if something heavy had been thrown against the wall. She peered into the darkness but could see nothing.

"Doctor?" she called out, tremulously. "Are you alright?"

He mumbled something in reply, but it was completely incomprehensible. He sounded like he was drowning.

Jo felt like she was drowning herself. Alone in the silence and the dark. And then the shuffling noise grew louder and louder and _closer_. Her heartbeat skyrocketed and the wood almost slipped in her sweaty hands.

For lack of anything better to do, she pounded on the door and screamed.

* * *

The Brigadier slammed the door of the manor, huffing. "Well that was a complete waste of time!" he shouted to no one in particular.

Sgt. Benton cautiously opened the front door and closed it just as quietly. "Hopefully the Doctor and Ms. Grant have had a bit more luck," he said.

The Brigadier placed his hands on his hips and looked around critically. "Well where are they then? Their car was in the drive. And where the devil was that butler off to in such a hurry?"

"I've no idea, sir."

"It must have been somewhere important with the amount of petrol he was burning."

Just then the soft whine of a scream pierced the air. Both the Brigadier and Benton turned their heads to the source of the cry.

"That's Ms. Grant!" the Brigadier realized, his eyes wide.

The two men raced down the hall as fast as their military boots could carry them.

* * *

The Doctor was intoxicated by the bright smell. It shifted in front of him, pushing itself into the corner. Why was it hiding? There was something there—something he needed to remember...

It was making a noise. It was making a loud, raucous noise that hurt his sensitive ears. He reached out his hands. He needed to stop it—needed to stop that awful noise—needed to drink in that beautiful smell…

Suddenly the world exploded into light. His eyes burned and he stumbled back into the shadows. And then he was being shoved forcibly back by something—someone? The smells were everywhere now. There were too many of them…

And then there was one strong smell. He was holding it in his hands. It wasn't beating. It felt dead. At this point, though, it didn't matter. He sank his teeth into it and drank. And for one long, precious moment he was blissfully happy.

* * *

Jo slammed her hand on the door, again and again. "Help!" she screamed. "Help me!"

She caught her breath and stopped pounding for a second, listening. His breathing was closer. She wished she could see. She would give _anything _to able to see.

As if in answer to her wishes, the door suddenly burst open and the Brigadier and Sgt. Benton rushed into the room, guns in hand.

"Please, he's—"

But she didn't need to explain. The Doctor stood in the shadows, his teeth bared. He held his hands in front of his face, protecting himself from the light. The Brigadier wasted no time. He shoved the Doctor back with the butt of his gun and pulled a packet of dark liquid out of his pocket. He thrust the packet into the Doctor's hands and then retreated.

Without waiting for anything, the Brigadier grabbed Jo's wrist and practically dragged her up the stairs. Benton followed closely behind.

"I was afraid of this," the Brigadier mumbled as they left the Doctor to feed.

* * *

If you're short on Doctor Who videos I highly recommend the Babelcolour tributes. Also, I recently rewatched 'The Mind of Evil' and was overdosed with Pertwee awesomeness. On the downside, however, my computer is currently crawling with viruses and I've been forced to surreptitiously use my mom's. This means that updates might become a bit irregular. Sorry!

iPinkNinja - I always thought their clings were cute as well. Thank you for reviewing!

Amron - I sympathize with your computer problems. I'll keep writing though, don't worry! Thank you!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

When the Doctor finally emerged from the basement, he found Sgt. Benton's gun trained on his face. He blinked at it several times.

"Is Jo…?" he trailed off.

The sergeant lowered his gun, but his face was hard. "She's fine," he said, shortly.

"Where is she? And where is the Brigadier? I must speak with him." The Doctor quietly closed the door to the basement as he spoke. A certain amount of relief washed over him to leave the godforsaken place.

"They're in the lounge. The Duke is there as well."

The Doctor nodded. The sergeant escorted him down the hallway to the lounge, keeping one hand on his gun belt at all times.

The lounge was largely silent except for the Brigadier, who was shouting orders into a handheld radio. Jo sat alone on a sofa, wrapped in a blanket, staring unblinkingly into a cup of tea. The Duke sat in a large armchair, resting his steepled fingers on his top lip. There was a disturbed expression on his face.

"Greyhound One to Trap Two! Do you read me? This is Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart! Do you read me? Over!"

The radio crackled with static before the somewhat muffled voice of a young man broke through. "Read you loud and clear. Roadblocks have been set up. No sign of him yet, sir."

"Very good, Captain Yates. Keep me informed. Over and out." He placed the radio on the coffee table in front of him before acknowledging the Doctor's presence. He looked up, his eyes dark. "Hello, Doctor. Nice to have you in the land of the living again."

"I…yes," the Doctor said. He dropped his gaze to the ground and rubbed the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. "I assume Jo has informed you of what we have learned concerning Brightley's ghost," he finally said.

"Indeed she has. Our Mr. Wesley appears to have jumped ship. My men have set up roadblocks around the county. Wherever he is, he won't get far."

"Good, good."

The silence settled like a blanket over the small group.

"I can't believe Wesley could do such things," the Duke said suddenly. "Torture a man for so long, I mean. And then petrify Ms. Grant and knock the poor Doctor unconscious."

"Unconsci—?" the Doctor started but then broke off when he saw the Brigadier's raised eyebrow.

"You just wouldn't believe a man like that would stoop to such a level," the Duke continued.

"No, you wouldn't," the Doctor said, his eyes trained on some point on the floor.

Jo got up from where she was sitting and set her tea on the table. She seemed much stronger than she had been a few minutes ago. "What I don't understand is why he would use Mr. Chatham to try to kill me. I never even met Mr. Wesley before I came here!" Her voice rose in pitch as she spoke.

"I don't think he had anything against you personally, Jo," the Doctor said, levelly. "I believe he was just trying to stop our investigation. Scare us away. After all, if we discovered what he was up to his little system of torture would have to stop."

Jo shivered. "Horrible," she whispered.

The Doctor's eyes quickly looked up to meet hers and, to his surprise, she smiled. A certain unspoken understanding passed between them and the Doctor returned the smile. There would be time for more long-winded apologies later.

The radio suddenly crackled to life. "Trap Two to Greyhound One! Trap Two to Greyhound One! Come in! Over!" the voice called, urgently.

The Brigadier snatched the radio and spoke quickly. "What is it, Yates? Have you seen him? Over!"

"I think so, sir. Some sort of old, open-top car headed at full pace south on Langford Road. Over."

"That's it, Yates! That's it! Pursue him, and keep me informed! We'll follow you in—"

"In Bessie," the Doctor said, suddenly grabbing the radio out of the Brigadier's hands. "Yes, this the Doctor. Trust me, my car can go much faster than your jeeps."

The radio crackled in indistinct confusion. The Brigadier's jaw flapped several types. "But, Doctor, you—"

"Well what are you waiting for, man?! Do you want to lose him?" And he fled the room, his velvet cape swirling behind him. The others followed him quickly out of the manor and into the black night.

The Brigadier's heart pumped rapidly, but he tried to remain rational. This wasn't over yet. Not for anybody.

* * *

iPinkNinja - I'm afraid the de-bugging process is going very slowly, unfortunately. Thank you for reviewing! We're in the final stretch here. :)

Also, happy birthday Bram Stoker!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"—and he's armed, so you can see why it really wouldn't be pertinent for you to go," the Brigadier explained to the Duke, even as the Doctor was revving the engine of his car.

"But Brigadier, I—" the Duke sputtered.

"I'm afraid I must insist, sir." And without waiting for a response the Brigadier bounded down the front steps of the manor.

Jo stood at an impasse, hesitating beside the car.

"Quickly, Jo! Get in!" the Doctor practically shouted.

His shouting didn't help. In her head she understood it. The amount of pain he must go through… He must hate himself. She couldn't imagine it. And she wouldn't make him think she feared him. She wouldn't wish that on anybody. At the same time, though…

_His breathing was closer. And the door was locked ohgodthedoorwaslocked._

And so she got into the back seat, diagonal to him. It was a compromise between her rationality and her primal fear. She hadn't really known what she was getting into when she had started this. But she did now. And part of her wanted to run, run far away as fast as her legs could carry her. But another, stronger part told her to stay, to help this man. And she was Josephine Grant. When given a decision between personal selfishness and doing what she believed to be the right thing…

She smiled and she saw his mouth twitch upward. She could give him this, at least.

Seeing her make her decision, Sgt. Benton slipped into the seat next to her, behind the Doctor. He squared himself behind him, protectively.

The Brigadier fell into the front passenger seat, and the instant he slammed the door the Doctor peeled out, throwing up a cloud of dusty gravel.

"For heaven's sake, man! Be careful!" the Brigadier shouted as he managed to position himself right-side-up in his seat. The Doctor responded by changing gears and pushing the gas pedal even harder.

The Brigadier was a rational man. He saw problems and he fixed them in the most proper, English way possible. And currently the problem was sitting next to him, attempting to kill them via automobile accident.

What had he been thinking? Hiring a vampire. This whole business had been inevitable really. And Ms. Grant was pulling an incredibly brave face for the Doctor's sake but who knew what sort of fear lay under the surface. Demmed business.

And yet if he hadn't allowed the Doctor to work on this investigation…

Ms. Grant would be dead. And Henry Chatham would be condemned to a life of perpetual torture.

The Doctor seemed to be a reasonable enough man (if you discounted the clothes) when he wasn't thirsting after blood. Should he fire him? Report his existence to the government?

_He bared his teeth. He hissed, like an animal._

The Brigadier was at a loss. He honestly had no idea what to do. So he clung to the seat and told the Doctor to stay on the damn road. He wasn't one for moral dilemmas. Guns wouldn't solve this one. He would wait to make this decision.

The car shot down the road, heading towards a fork. "LEFT!" the Brigadier shouted, pointing wildly. The Doctor spun the wheel and the car seemed to balance for a split second on only two wheels before crashing down and continuing on its precarious course.

The radio suddenly crackled to life again. "What is it, Yates?!" the Brigadier hissed, testily.

"He's on Fambridge, now, sir!" came the panting voice of the captain. "He's going too fast, though. We'll never catch up with him!"

"We'll cut him off at Limebrook, then. Call reinforcements!" He then switched the radio off, without bothering with the obligatory 'over and out.' "Right, here!" he suddenly shouted to the Doctor. "I said right!"

"There!" Jo yelled, her finger outstretched. The bright lights of a car shone through the night. It rocketed along at unimaginable speeds towards the intersection they were approaching. About a quarter of a mile behind it the unmistakable square silhouettes of UNIT jeeps followed it, not quite keeping pace.

The Doctor slammed on the gas again. The car accelerated even faster than before and hit the intersection just as Mr. Wesley's car passed it. The wheels screamed as they scraped along the road to make the turn.

The small group could see the outline of Mr. Wesley's gaunt form in the open-top car. He swerved wildly along the country road at precipitous speeds. The Brigadier kept one steady hand on the car door and raised himself up, over the windshield.

"What are you doing?" Jo shouted.

The Brigadier took out his trusty pistol and aimed at Mr. Wesley's tires. He shot once, twice, three times, each time the recoil making him sway dangerously back. The man was swerving too extremely, though, and none of the bullets touched the car. The Brigadier continued shooting methodically until finally the gun clicked without response.

The Brigadier swore loudly before sitting back down. He stared at the car in front of them. It was no use going on like this. The man was going too fast and they would lose him eventually. He twisted his head to look at the Doctor, hoping the man had some idea.

The Doctor grit his teeth, seemingly gauging the distance between his car and the one in front of him. He took a deep breath and blew it out, quickly. Then he turned to the Brigadier.

"Take the wheel, man!" he shouted.

"What?!" the Brigadier, asked, flabbergasted.

"I said TAKE THE WHEEL!"

Without waiting for a response, the Doctor let go of the wheel, braced one foot on the seat of the car and one hand on the door, and then flung himself into the air.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Flying through the air was a remarkable time to think, the Doctor thought, as he rocketed toward Mr. Wesley's car. He hadn't had much time to think after what had happened in the manor's basement, or rather, he hadn't wanted to. He had been so close. _So close._ If the Brigadier hadn't arrived in the nick of time…

He didn't want to think about that.

The right thing to do would be to resign the instant this investigation was over. He would go back to living on his meager savings and feeding on unsuspecting animals. That wasn't a steady lifestyle though, and if he wasn't careful _it _could happen again. Of course, he hadn't been careful this time and look what had almost happened to Jo.

Jo.

He would resign for her sake. None of this situation was fair to her. She smiled at him and pretended like nothing had happened and for an instant he had believed that everything was going to be okay. But now he could see the strain in her smile and the frown on the Brigadier's face. He was a monster and he had no right to endanger their lives.

He would have sighed if he wasn't whipping through the night air.

Time slammed back into motion as he crashed into the back of Mr. Wesley's car. He rolled once, falling into the space between the back and front seats.

"What the hell?!" Mr. Wesley yelled. The car swerved wildly as he turned to look at the intruder. When he saw the Doctor, his bloodshot eyes widened. "How the—?!" He snapped back when the car hit a rut and almost went off the road.

The Doctor, breathing heavily, picked himself up and tried to move to the passenger seat. Mr. Wesley reached wildly for something at his feet. After fighting the wind and one of Mr. Wesley's flailing arms, the Doctor managed to get one foot on the slippery leather.

Just then Mr. Wesley pulled his gun out and aimed it at the Doctor's head.

Acting on instinct, the Doctor flung his arm out with a deafening "HAI!" knocking the gun onto the back seat.

Growling with fury, Mr. Wesley took both hands off the wheel and tried to reach the gun. His elbow hit the wheel, causing the car to twist violently to the right.

In the split second before the car hit the ditch, the Doctor grabbed the man roughly by his jacket and pulled him bodily out of the car and into the air. For a moment they soared upward, the car moving inexplicably beneath them. Mr. Wesley suddenly seemed to realize what was happening to him and his mouth opened in a scream.

He didn't get the chance. The Doctor yanked him to the side and they fell together several yards away from the vehicle. They tumbled to a stop in the long heather.

The instant he fell out of the Doctor's grasp, Mr. Wesley crawled away, panting hard. "What was _that? _I don't—how did you—"

The Doctor, who was beyond words at this point, got unsteadily to his feet and approached the man. He shrunk away in fear. "What _are _you? How did you do that?" he questioned shrilly.

The Doctor responded by delivering a sharp blow to the man's shoulder, knocking him unconscious.

He drew back and leaned over, resting his hands on his knees. He took in a long, long, deep breath.

It was done. Oh god it was over.

Bessie soon pulled up beside the crushed remains of the Duke's car. The Brigadier hopped out, followed quickly by Sgt. Benton and Jo. They hurried quickly over to where the Doctor stood, gasping for breath. Behind them the other UNIT jeeps finally arrived, and the slim figure of Captain Yates as well as an arsenal of other UNIT soldiers poured out of the canvas trucks.

The Brigadier was all business. He shouted orders to Benton, Yates, and the other soldiers and soon Tom Wesley was handcuffed and carried into the back of one of the trucks, to be monitored the entire trip back to UNIT HQ. For someone who was usually quite bombastic, the Doctor could only stare mutely at the busy seen in front of him.

Jo approached him and stood beside him in silence, watching the proceedings. They were both coming off their adrenaline high, but there was more to it than that. There was a sad finality about the whole business. The Doctor knew what it meant. The fairy tale was over and now he needed to face the consequences.

The Brigadier jogged up to the odd couple and informed them that they'd better be getting on, then. Indeed, the faint red streaks of dawn were beginning to light up the night sky.

The Doctor didn't want to go back to his old life. Here he was useful. He was a force for good. Like he had been, before everything changed. But how could they accept him, after everything he had done? And they didn't even know…

He walked, still in silence, back towards the line of vehicles. He watched the people, the _humans_, go about whatever they needed to do. And he resigned himself to whatever fate they had in store for him.

* * *

I'm sure that somewhere it's been clinically proven that you can knock someone out by hitting them on the shoulder. At least, I hope so.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The Doctor, the Brigadier, and the Duke sat around the coffee table in the manor's lounge. The soft light of early morning shone through the open window, illuminating the dust in the air. The Duke coughed and the Doctor cleared his throat.

"So what are we going to do?" asked the Duke.

"About what?" said the Brigadier, even though he knew.

"About Dr. Chatham," the Duke finished. He let the sentence hang. When no one answered him, he continued, "We can't just leave him there in that—that—oh, what did you call it, Doctor?"

"Limbo," the Doctor answered, gravely.

"Surely there must be some way to get him out." He looked at the Brigadier and the Doctor plaintively.

"Yes, yes I believe there is," the Doctor said, rubbing his chin.

"Then we must implement it immediately!" the Duke cried. "What are we just sitting here for?"

"Just a minute, sir," the Brigadier interjected. "I've been discussing this with the Doctor and I believe the matter is more complicated than that." He turned to the Doctor. "Would you care to explain?"

The Doctor placed his hands on the table. "Yes, yes I would. You see, sir, we've all been witness to Dr. Chatham's state of mind. It is my _opinion_ that it would be no more of a kindness to take him out of his current state than to just leave him there."

"But you… you can't be suggesting we just _leave _him," the Duke stressed, wide-eyed. "The man's… well, the man's still _alive_, isn't he?"

"Alive, yes. But I believe Dr. Chatham himself died a long time ago."

The three men sat in silence for a moment, considering their options.

The Duke's eyes shifted. "There couldn't be a way to… I mean… painlessly, of course." He cleared his throat and drew back into his chair.

The Brigadier kept his eyes fixed on a stain on the coffee table. "Euthanasia," he murmured into his closed fist. He looked up. "Of course, UNIT has no jurisdiction over such things."

The Doctor was mumbling something to himself. "…could be done. Just close up the seam between the two branes and reverse the polarity of the neutron flow…would just have to look at a few schematics…" He ran his hands over his face. "But you're right, Brigadier. Neither one of us has such authority."

The Duke stared at his hands. "But I do." He sighed. "The machinery is my property, to do with what I will. And the man is legally dead anyway…"

"Sir…" the Brigadier started, but he was cut off by a wave of the Duke's hand.

"No, Brigadier. This is my responsibility." He turned to the Doctor. "I would appreciate a list of instructions of how to… perform it. I'm actually quite technologically literate, you know. I should be able to do it."

The Doctor and the Brigadier nodded mutely.

"So what will you do now?" the Doctor asked the Duke.

"Probably sell the place," the Duke said, looking around at the ornate tapestries that decorated the walls. "I'm not sure I could even spend another night here, really. I'll leave it to the next owner to deal with Brightley's ghouls."

* * *

The Doctor and the Brigadier paused for a minute on the front steps of the manor, looking out at the beautiful grounds. Jo and the rest of the soldiers were already packed up and ready to leave.

"I'll need to discuss this thoroughly with my higher-ups, of course," the Brigadier was saying. "The whole situation is most… irregular. Ms. Grant's safety is, of course, the top priority."

"Of course," the Doctor agreed softly.

"Don't think I'm blind to your contributions to this case, though," he continued. He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on the balls of his feet. "I'll make sure everything is taken into consideration."

"Thank you."

The Brigadier nodded once and took one last look at the rolling lawn before heading down the stone steps, leaving the Doctor alone.

"Brigadier!" the Doctor called, just as the Brigadier reached the bottom of the steps. The man stopped and turned on his heel.

"Yes, Doctor?"

The Doctor swallowed. "You know… you know I would never hurt her… Jo… never willingly." He stopped and took a short breath.

"I know," the Brigadier said. And then he strode off toward the line of jeeps.

The Doctor remained on the front steps, watching the final preparations for departure.

He was a coward. A complete coward. He should have resigned then and there. But no, he had to throw in that last little thread of hope. It was moot now, anyway. The matter was out of his hands.

But not really. The Brigadier didn't have all the facts. And it shouldn't be a matter of _if _he should tell them, but _when._ It was a matter of safety.

But it was also a matter of guilt.

He rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his tousled white hair. He was tired. He needed to sleep.

He took a deep breath and made his decision.

He would tell them. Soon.

He needed to end this.

He needed to end this now.

* * *

He'll never read this and he doesn't even know I exist. After all, I'm just a teenage girl who lives 3000 miles away and writes stories about Doctor Who and vampires. But Charlie McDonnell is scared and I want to say what everyone else is saying: We're all scared and _that's okay_. If you don't know who Charlie is I suggest you check him out. And if you do, I encourage you to send your support in any way you can. He is a true credit to the Internet.

On a happier note, next chapter is the last one!


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The Doctor sat on a stool back in his lab in UNIT HQ. He quietly poured a bright yellow chemical into a test tube filled with clear liquid. As the solutions mixed, they turned a deep, royal blue.

It had been two days since he had seen the Brigadier.

He had seen Jo nearly every day. She brought him his tea and coffee and occasionally passed him his test tubes and generally made a tremendous effort to appear as if nothing was wrong. They would chat about trivial things and share secret, strained smiles.

But despite the few, awkward moments things were, for the most part, returning to normal. Although she was scared, Jo wouldn't let that stop her from doing her job. And since the… _incident _she had never forgotten to remind him to take the proper amount of blood.

Although perhaps there was more to that than sudden interest in job security.

It was taking longer to regain Sgt. Benton's trust. There was a portion of the Doctor's mind that believed he never would, not completely. Whenever he passed the sergeant in the hallway the man's eyes would shift and his hand would drift down to his gun.

He sighed. He turned to the corner of the lab. It still seemed so _empty_. Something really needed to go there. Something that would liven up the place. Perhaps something in blue…?

He still hadn't told them yet. He had promised himself that he would, but… he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He had kept this inside for _so _long, almost buried behind layers of suppression. But he could never forget. He would never, never forget.

Perhaps he wouldn't have to tell them. After all, he was absolutely certain the Brigadier would come back from his interminable meeting to tell him he had been fired. He would return to his old life and have nothing more to do with UNIT. His secrets would be buried with him.

Yes. That's what he would do.

"Doctor?"

The Doctor turned on his stool to see the Brigadier standing in front of the double doors. In one hand he held a small stack of folders and in the other a cup of tea. His face was inexpressive but his thin mustache twitched occasionally.

"May I speak with you?" the Brigadier continued.

"Yes, yes," the Doctor said, practically tripping over his words. He slipped off his stool, shoved his hands in his pockets, and strolled as nonchalantly as could toward the door. "Have you and your superiors come to a consensus?"

"We have." He paused dramatically. "You're very lucky, Doctor. It has been determined that the benefits you can give our organization outweigh the possible risks. You'll be able to keep your job here as UNIT's scientific advisor. Of course, I doubt the board will be so lenient if anything like this every happens again."

The Doctor had stopped breathing. This made no sense. He had been _so certain _they would fire him. He hadn't wanted to leave, but – he had been free from responsibility. No need to tell them.

No need to tell them.

"What?!" he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"For goodness sakes, Doctor," the Brigadier almost laughed. "I thought you would be pleased!"

"But… but you can't… Jo…" he said, frantically. "Jo… I could have killed her!"

The Brigadier frowned. "I know you can be a dangerous man, Doctor, but I seriously doubt you could have killed Ms. Grant."

"NO!" the Doctor shouted, slamming his hand against the doorframe. "You don't understand! Of course I could have done it! Of course I could have killed her! I was so close! _So close! _I could have done it! I've done it before!"

The blood rushed through the Doctor's ears and sang in the deafening silence.

"What?" said the Brigadier, his voice reduced to an icy whisper.

"I killed her," the Doctor said desperately. "I killed her. I killed her." The words couldn't seem to stop tumbling out.

The Brigadier stared at the tall, fair man, his eyes glassy and hard. When he spoke, he ground his words out through his teeth. "Doctor, what _exactly _are you trying to tell me?"

The Doctor took several breaths and finally managed to return his breathing to normal.

"Her name was Ann Lambert," he said, his eyes fixed on the floor. "And I killed her in cold blood."

The silence stretched on.

And the tea went cold.

END

* * *

Author's note: Wow. That was a wild ride. This is the longest thing I've _ever _written, fic or otherwise. I must say I'm pretty proud of it, for better or worse. (I wish you could have seen my outline for this story. It contained such Shakespearean phrases as "Doctor!angst", "Doctor!BAMF", and "epic car chase in Bessie!")

There is a sequel in the works for this although I have no idea when I'll be able to get it up. (It may or may not contain the Master.) I would really appreciate any feedback on that front.

A big thank you to everyone who faved, followed, and reviewed. You really helped to encourage me to finish this. Thank you so much!


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